The Memoirs of Von Kripplespac’s Right Boot
by Oni Senpai
Summary: A short story featuring the rise to power of Kriplespac’s most trusted officer. Check out 'Fanart Central' for a picture of Sturmbannführer Gulag [link in profile]. Warning: I have tried to emulate Tediz speak and some people may find this irritating...


At the peak of Mount Bäktbienz stood Castle Tedistein illuminated briefly by the lightening that raged about its battlements. At the top of the highest tower the flag of the Righteous SHC was slowly lowered down a flagpole. In its place the black and red banner of the Tediz was raised toward the tumultuous sky…

* * *

"Here's der flag, serh…" 

The Tedi Officer, Sturmbannführer Gulag, turned at looked down at the soaked a soiled flag with his one good eye. His soldiers had, by the looks of it, already used it for the perquisite nose blow that all enemy regalia were subjected to… It reminded him that his soldiers needed new medical supplies; by the looks of the flag some were quite unwell. He turned back to the window and the stormy vista beyond. With a small gesture he signalled the trooper to place the tattered thing on the fire. The grunt crossed the hall and flung the soggy lump into the fireplace. It landed with a hiss of steam and a cloud of ash. The grunt watched the flames for a moment before waddling off into the castle. There was work to be done. A continuous line of Tedi soldiers came and went, bearing crates of equipment that would be used to furnish this recently liberated base of operations.

"This is binkin' heaveh…" moaned a long ranger, dropping a wooden box onto the flagstones. Gulag, still staring through the window and into the storm was lost in thought. The thud of equipment being moved echoed through the halls of the castle… The sound of distant artillery fire…

* * *

"Tankus!" squealed a grunt as he flung himself behind a pile of rubble. A moment later it exploded into a cascade of shrapnel, fur and fluff as the hapless soldier and his hiding place were torn apart. 

Scharführer Gulag covered his eyes and another artillery shell exploded metres away. Blinking dirt and rain water from his eyes he peered over the lip of the trench. The tankus was rumbling along a street between two buildings right towards the Tedi defences. Squirrel troops crept along beside it, taking what refuge they could from surrounding ruins and debris.

Sighting through his scope Gulag singled out a squirrel demolisher.

"Easeh… Come to Daddeh…" he mumbled to himself and squeezed the trigger. The big squirrel's head exploded, his corpse toppling amongst his squad mates. Gulag had another moment to loose another wild shot into the enemy before return fire forced him to duck back into cover. Dirt showered over him, shells ricocheting about the dugout. There was a whistling noise above him and he looked up in time to see a guard tower explode in a shower of flame. A screaming Tedi demolisher plummeted down to land with a sizeable splat in the trench, very close to where Gulag was crouching. A thermophile shrieked at the carnage and bolted from the trench only to be gunned down within moments. Gulag wracked his brain for a way to stop the dire situation turning into a complete rout. His roving eyes settled on the crumpled demolisher and his weapon that lay next to him in the mud. With an effort Gulag managed to bring the cannon to bear, resting it on the lip of the trench. The tankus was quite close now, an easy target even with the difficulty of aiming the cumbersome weapon. Adjusting the scope Gulag took a general aim at the SHC vehicle.

"Eat lead you f… ing Tedi bast…"

Gulag turned towards the voice, barely heard over further artillery explosions and blasts of gunfire. A squirrel grunt has charging up the trench, weapon already spitting fire.

Bracing the bazooka on his shoulder Gulag reached for his sidearm. Levelling the Krotch 45 at the charging squirrel he was gratified to see the enemy crumple to the floor, but not before machinegun fire tore into his own arm.

"AH!" The Tedi sniper shouted, accidentally pulling the trigger of the bazooka. The missile flew wide of the tank and hit a shell of a building. Gulag watched as the explosion ripped through the heavy masonry and, with a groan, the wall toppled onto one of the tankus tracks. With a squeal of gearing the vehicle halted, the other track beginning to dig into the road. There was a scattered cheer form the few Tedi troops who still remained at the front.

As the squirrel troops began to try at free the tankus some Tediz leapt from the trench and rushed the enemy. Troops collapsed on both sides as fire was exchanged. A Tedi sneaker actually managed to get amongst the squirrels, hacking indiscriminately at the enemy before being outnumbered and beaten down. A grenade still clutched in a dead paw exploded, scattering the squirrel soldiers.

Gulag tried to raise his rifle to aid the counterattack, but the wound on his arm made aiming impossible. He could only watch as he tankus' gun made short work of the advancing Tediz. The troops began to retreat. Further SHC troops were advancing down the road still under covering fire of the trapped armoured vehicle. The Tediz were beaten.

Gulag leant against the side of the trench, firing his pistol at the tankus in frustration. Then he saw the gleam of polished steel in the mud… Within moments he saw a possible way to turn the tide. Levering himself out of the dugout he ran forward through the rain, keeping low as bullets spattered mud about him. Diving forward he grabbed at the sneaker sword that lay almost submerged in murky water. Rolling to his feet he darted the last short distance till he crouched beside the tankus.

Above him the turret whirred as it swivelled towards a new target. He was left stunned as, with a deafening roar that shook the area, the cannon hurled fire at the Tediz battle line. There was little time to waste. With difficulty Gulag scrambled up the slick armour plating. Kneeling on to of the turret he used the sneaker blade to smash the lock on the turret's hatch and prise the cover open.

Surprised squirrels looked up at him, blinking away rain that now fell into the crew compartment. They took a moment to realise that a grenade had landed amongst them. The commander, a huge squirrel who cold barely fit through the hatch, began to climb out of the tank, but with a quick thrust Gulag left his corpse blocking the only exit form the tankus. The Tedi leapt to the ground and rolled, lying in the mud whilst holding his helmet down over his head. Behind him was a muffled thud. He looked around to see smoke escaping from various gaps in the tankus' hull. The turret was now still and silent.

"Attack!" he wailed surging to his feet, pointing at the oncoming SHC troops with his blade. With gleeful cheers the remaining Tedi troops left their hiding places and charged along the street to meet the SHC force. A group of thermophiles shuffled forward, their sinurators loosing jets of flames into the enemy formation.

Gulag watched and slowly began to reload his pistol. The Tediz were back in the fight.

* * *

As the last tendrils of the memory fade Gulag became aware of soldiers standing beside him. He turned to glare at them. 

"Thuh crates ah all in posishun, serh," one explained.

Gulag nodded.

"Guut. Now go… Defile some prisonehs…" he said.

With various amounts of cackling and happy mumbling the troops filed out leaving Gulag alone in the hall. He turned back to the window, rain still pattering on the glass. He had seen so much war that memories of individual battles began to mix together. However several remained very separate in his mind. The time when he acquired his first sword had marked the beginning of his rise through the ranks; his ascension towards greatness.

Turning away from the window he paced the room, lost in reverie. Unbuckling his weaponry he slumped into a fine armchair placing his arsenal on a desk nearby. His paw ran over his Krotch, his trusted sidearm and then over his two swords. The first, the Tedi blade he used to destroy the tankus, was real Krappe. Not all sneakers carried blades fashioned by the Tediz' finest sword maker, Frederic Krappe. He had been allowed to keep the weapon as a reward for his heroic feat. He earned the right to keep it after he retrained as a sneaker. The wound to his arm healed, but his aim was never as good, so he had to find new ways to kill efficiently. The mentality of a sniper was so totally different to that of a covert operative…

He was soon promoted and as an officer he was placed in charge of an artillery crew, his sniping skills still finding some use. It was during that duty that he acquired his second blade. His paw moved across it now. It was a weapon fashioned by the SHC, taken as a trophy from one of their sneakers. He quickly found it to be very useful. Officially he maintained that he carried it for the irony of using a blade manufactured by the SHC against its own troops. Privately, for he could not afford to admit it, the squirrel blade was a more refined weapon that that carried by Tedi troops. It wasn't perhaps such a brutal and efficient killing implement as the Krappe blade, but it was of superior quality when it came to swordplay. Gulag had found this out from first hand experience.

* * *

"Fire!" Obersturmführer Gulag ordered and the cannon fired again, sending a shell hurtling towards the distant SHC ships out in the bay. Behind him a grunt sitting at a radio station spoke. 

"Observehs report short by 50 metehs, serh."

"Raise angle by 3 degrees, 12 degrees south," ordered Gulag, wiping sea spray from his binoculars.

"Serh!" The soldier adjusted the radio's settings and relayed the orders to other Tediz.

"Guut!" replied Gulag and raised the binoculars to his eyes, watching as more SHC landing barges sped towards the bay. Some small inflatable boats had already made it to the beaches. Suddenly he had to brace himself against a railing as the platform he was standing on began to move. The artillery cannon, mounted in its rotating concrete turret, ponderously swivelled to take better aim. It stopped with a judder.

"Gunnehs standing by…" said the soldier. Gulag brought the binoculars up once again. The SHC command ship was a prize right for taking…

"Fire…" he ordered. Nothing happened.

"I said…" Gulag began, turning around, but stopped when he noticed the problem. The radio operator was slumped forward over the desk, his equipment smashed. Gulag looked around but couldn't see any obvious threat. A Tedi soldier began to climb the ladder from the gunners' bunker below.

"Take control of…" Gulag began to tell the trooper but stopped. As the Tedi soldier approached him a creeping feeling of uneasiness ran down Gulag's spine. The realisation came too late. The soldier whipped his helmet off and with a fluid motion flung it at Gulag. The Tedi officer caught it but it left him defenceless for what followed. The SHC sneaker let the rest of the disguise slip onto the floor. The squirrel grinned

"Gotcha," she said and swung her blade upwards. Gulag roared as pain shot through his head, blood pouring from his left eye. He flung the helmet down and lashed out with his own sword, carving wild arcs through the air.

The nimble squirrel darted back, away from the ill timed attacks. As Gulag lurched forward she drew a small knife from her belt and, with a little flick, it imbedded itself in Gulag's leg.

With a hiss of anger the Tedi officer toppled down to land awkwardly in front of the entrance to the gunner's bunker. He rolled towards the doorway just as another knife clattered onto the concrete where his head had been moments before. Dragging himself further into the bunker he tried to put some of the artillery piece mechanism between himself and the door. He couldn't help notice the slaughtered gunners lying all around him.

A shadow filled the doorway. Pulling the dagger from his leg Gulag flung it at the silhouette, forcing it to retreat. He struggled to his feet and waited for a moment, listening. There were only the distant sounds of fighting and the spattering of his own blood on the concrete. It was a standoff. He wasn't going to leave his refuge and the squirrel would have to be mad to charge in here, even if he was wounded. Casting around he spotted a mop propped up against the wall.

"Handeh…" he mumbled and grabbed one of the dead gunner's helmets. Placing it on the end of the mop he slowly advanced on the doorway. Carefully he poked the helmet out through the open door. The enemy sneaker struck, the blade cleaving the helmet in two… It was what Gulag had hoped for. He lashed out with his own sword, bringing it down on the squirrel's hand. There was a squeal and a clatter of metal as the enemy's sword landed on the floor, accompanied by some of her fingers.

Clutching her maimed hand she backed away. Gulag bent down and retrieved her sword. Then, ignoring the pain in his leg, he lunged…

* * *

He didn't kill her. Not straight away. The information learnt from that squirrel helped turn the tide of the battle. The Tediz knew where the landing barges would aim, what troops would be dropped where. As a bonus Gulag's re-crewed cannon even managed to inflict a wound on the SHC flagship before it retreated out to sea. This battle earned him personal recognition from the Tediz Battle Leader. He was given a promotion and even earned a reputation as a favoured officer of the Battle Leader: The Right Boot of Von Kirplespac, stamping out all who would oppose him. Under the Leader's watchful eye Gulag's star had soared, his ascension through the ranks had been meteoric. He followed orders without question, achieved objectives without failure, engaged the enemy without mercy. He was feared and loathed by the SHC and Tediz alike, for as long a Kriplespac commanded, Gulag obeyed and had absolute authority. 

The Tedi commander removed his helmet and rubbed feeling back into his squashed ears. To one side the fire crackled. The SHC flag had dried on the flames and was now mostly crumbling ash. Gulag stared at the last vestiges of the enemy emblem charred and blackened, disappearing into oblivion.

* * *

"Argh…" 

The death rattle faded away and Sturmbannführer Gulag pushed another squirrel grunt away, sliding his sword from the creature's body as he did so. Around him his troops dispatched the last of the main gate's defenders, bludgeoning the enemy with rifle butts, fists or whatever else was to hand. Behind his long rangers scanned the battlements, picking off any squirrel stupid enough to attempt an attack. Thermophiles, sneakers and grunts stood ready and waiting, eager to begin cleaning out the SHC base. Demolishers were at work on the gates themselves, pounding the hinges with explosive projectiles. With an ominous creaking, one of the gates splintered and fractured, hanging broken against its counterpart. The demolishers sauntered up to the ruined barrier chuckling at their handiwork. Working together and with a mighty effort they pushed the gate inwards, the heavy wood crashing to the floor.

Gulag was at the fore of the charge. Cheers and wails of barbaric joy rose up over the throng of Tedi soldiers.

There were only a few defenders remaining inside, most lay dead amongst their wrecked war machines. The survivors of the siege were quickly dispatched and the Tediz began the task of methodically and carefully pulling the command post apart.

Gulag, followed by a twitching groups of thermophiles, descended a set of stairs, heading for a basement level. They reached a bend in the corridor and Gulag held up a paw. Behind him his troops halted, equipment clattering noisily.

"Wait here!" the commander ordered and crept into the shadows.

Gulag had a feeling that the Tediz were not alone in this tunnel and he couldn't afford for the thermophiles to get overexcited in these cramped conditions.

There was light up ahead, the tunnel opening out into a large room. At the entrance, sure enough, several squirrels were crouched behind cover. Using stealth training that came to him very naturally by this point Gulag covered the distance to the squirrels' position. He was so close he could smell the fear rising off them.

Stepping from the shadows an SHC sniper looked utterly shocked for a moment before one side of his face disappeared in a flash of steel. A demolisher was sent spiralling to the floor, his chest cleaved open. The grunt had time to try and bring his gun to bear. A well thrown knife kept the weapon pinned to his chest.

"Motherfu…."

With another viciously swift movement the squirrel joined his comrades on the now wet and slippery floor. Gulag stood and savoured his victory for a moment and then looked about the room. He found himself on a raised gantry that ran around the edge of the large hall. Below this platform, on the chamber's floor, was a mass of squirrels. Every last one was staring up at him, looking in horror at his brutal handiwork.

It was a muddled and tattered crowd. There were SHC soldiers of every kind, all wounded, all helpess. Medics that had been scurrying back and forth now waited, seeing what would happen next. There was a deathly silence broken only by the wimpering of a young squirrel soldier. Gulag grinned. The guards he had just killed were the only defence. An inquisitive thermophile had led the group along the corridor to see what had happened. He too looked down at the mass of squirrels.

"What shall we do wiv 'em?"

More Tediz were summoned. Any high ranking squirrels were dragged from the group, kicked and beaten into submission as the thermophiles took up position on the gantry that ran around the edge of the room. Resting the barrels of the sinurators on the railing they grinned hungrily at the crowd below.

"You sick fu…"

"Shaddup!" hissed a thermophile, pushing the blisteringly hot barrel of his weapon into the small of the squirrel major's back.

Below the squirrels saw what the Tediz were going to do. Some of the soldiers vented their frustration, shouting abuse up at the Tediz. Others just sat and resigned themselves to whatever was in store, knowing that they could do nothing. The medics, seeing the only course open to them began ministrations on every squirrel they could. They went round with syringes making sure every soldier got a good dose of sedative. As the drug went to work the squirrels slowly slipped into unconsciousness and grew still. The medics would make sure as few as possible suffered what was to come.

Gulag watched all this with a certain amusement and respect. Even when faced with certain doom, these squirrels still did everything in their power to defy the Tediz.

'_Why not just give up and accept destiny?'_ he thought. Gulag wondered at times whether the squirrels would ever surrender, whether they would be forced to hunt the enemy to the last creature, exterminate every last one of them.

The Tedi Commander mentally shrugged and pulled a pair of goggles down over his eyes. Some of the thermophiles did the same, others preferred not to. At his command there was a roaring hiss as streams of fiery liquid poured into the crowd, mingled with a high pitched cackling from the Tedi ranks…

* * *

Gulag slowly shook off the memory. He had earned quite a reputation with the SHC for that. He felt empowered by the hatred with which he was obviously viewed. It gave him an advantage over every enemy he faced. If they despised him, he could beat them. 

"Serh…"

Gulag swivelled around in the chair to peer at the entrance to the hall. A Tedi soldier waited nervously, hopping from foot to foot.

"Serh… Radio communicashun, serh. From our Leader. He wants to speak to you personalleh."

Gulag leapt form the chair and hurried after the simpering trooper to the comms room. He snatched the microphone from a waiting technician and hissed into it.

"Hail Kriplespac!"

"Ah… Gulag, my trusted right boot! Today is a glorious day both in your career and the history of the Tediz! Vee are one step closer to achieving our ultimate goal, and I have chozen your new command post as the base of zis most glorious enterprise!"

"What do you have in mind, my Leader?"

A dirty chuckle crackled from the radio speakers.

"My dear Gulag… Haff you ever vondered vhat the future holds?"

* * *

Far below Castle Von Tedistein a column of armoured vehicles pushed forward through the wind and rain. On board were some of the greatest scientific minds and most sophisticated equipment possessed by the Tedi military. Slowly they began the ascent up the mountain towards the castle. Onwards and upwards towards victory… 


End file.
